


JAOA: Dual Futures

by BlackRose (darthneko)



Series: JAOA [17]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-09
Updated: 2001-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthneko/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A decision for the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JAOA: Dual Futures

**JAOA: Dual Futures  
Year of the Republic 25,002**

* * *

The dim light of dusk had faded into the darkness of true night, the hour of evening meal long past before a weary Obi-Wan returned to his rooms.

Qui-Gon paused momentarily as the other man entered, questions apparent in his glance. Bare chested and footed, the Jedi Master was seated on the floor, one long leg stretched out before him as he went through a series of slow, simple stretches. The silver fall of his hair had come loose, tumbling over his shoulders and falling in a veil across his eyes as he resumed motion, leaning forward, muscle and scars rippling across his back.

Obi-Wan seated himself heavily on the couch, reaching down to unfasten his boots as he watched the older man. Blue eyes were half closed, breath flowing shallow but steady through parted lips. Deep meditation could, for a time, ease the frailities of flesh; but the faint flush in the skin of lips and cheeks told a different, more heartening story. Obi-Wan smiled gently, watching as Qui-Gon shifted position and stretched back, chest arching, breath exhaling with only a thin whisper of rasp beneath it. Scars made a familiar pattern spread across ribs that were too thin for the younger man's taste, pared down to the stark lines of bone and sinew.

"You look better," he remarked, tugging off one boot and letting it fall before tackling the other. Qui-Gon took a brief breath and flowed upright, a sinuous movement that carried him forward to his knees and from there, hands on the edge of the couch to either side of the other man, leaning into his lover's embrace.

"I feel better." Softer than the spoken word, slightly stronger than a whisper, the words were husky and warm and accompanied by a slow smile. "I rested," Qui-Gon added, the smile turning impish, "I even slept, all morning, amd most of the afternoon."

Obi-Wan mustered the shadow of an answering smile. "Thank you," he whispered, brushing his thumb across the older man's lips. Qui-Gon frowned at the gesture but Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. You sound better, and I'm too tired to be strict about it. Besides," he added, leaning forward to replace the touch of his fingers with his own lips, "sometimes... I just like to hear your voice."

Qui-Gon returned the kiss, then leaned back, looking at the other man critically. "I might have said something stronger than 'tired'," he offered. "The Council had a great deal to say, then? No, don't tell me, unless it can't wait." When Obi-Wan shook his head the Jedi Master climbed to his feet, holding out a hand. "Good. I kept food warm, if you're hungry."

"'If'? Sith, I can't remember the last time I ate." Accepting the hand up, Obi-Wan let his cloak slide back down to the couch, stretching broadly.

"This morning," Qui-Gon prompted. "If you call a cup of tea and a few bites of fruit a meal."

"It's all I seem to have time for lately," Obi-Wan sighed.

Qui-Gon pushed him towards the table. "Sit. You're about to collapse."

The younger man did as ordered, murmuring thanks as first drink, then food, were put in front of him. Bringing his own plate to the table, Qui-Gon sat, watching his lover as they both ate.

If aware of the scrutiny Obi-Wan said nothing. Not until the last crumb had been chased from his plate and with a second cup of sweet tea poured did he lean back, cup cradled between his hands and a sigh on his lips.

"Better?" Qui-Gon asked with a smile, pushing his own half eaten meal aside.

"Yes." Obi-Wan smiled wanly, resting his head against the high back of his chair. "Thank you."

Qui-Gon waved it away, gaze fixing more firmly on the younger Master. "Good. Now you can tell me what the Council wanted. And Anakin too, other than to show off that new Padawan of his."

The smile fell from Obi-Wan's face and he slowly nodded, eyes sliding away. The Jedi Master sat back, letting the other man gather his thoughts, all the while noting the frown that clouded his lover's brow and the characteristic tic along his cheek as teeth worried at his inner lip.

It took Obi-Wan some time to answer and he didn't look up as he said it, eyes fixed on the steaming contents of the cup he turned between his fingers. "What would you think if I were to take a Padawan?"

A flicker of surprise touched the older man's face but he hid it well, leaning back in his chair, a smile hovering at his lips. "Why? Feeling inspired by young Solo?"

"Who?" Startled, Obi-Wan looked up, then ruefully shook his head. "Oh, Ani's boy. No. The Council..."

Qui-Gon made a sharp noise of displeasure, cutting him off. Coughing slightly, the older man reached for his tea, silver brows drawn down sharply into a thunderous frown. [Again? Will they not leave it be?]

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, jaw tightening. "No. It's not that. Master Yoda, at least, has more sense than that. I will not take up active duty again... not unless the circumstances are truly remarkable."

The older man studied him for a moment above the rim of his cup, then slowly lowered it back to the table. [Which they are,] he stated, silently prompting.

Sighing, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, nodding slightly. "I haven't answered them yet," he assured quickly. "I wouldn't, not before speaking to you. But..."

"It is _your_ choice," Qui-Gon said gruffly. The frown still marred his brow but he tried to soften his words. "Choose as you will, love. Your reasons must be your own."

"No," Obi-Wan replied firmly, glancing up. "It affects us both. Truly, Qui-Gon, tell me what you think."

It was the older man's turn to drop his gaze, fingertips sliding over and around the tabletop near his cup as he thought. "When?" he asked at last. "Now? Next season?"

Obi-Wan let out a breath. "No. No, it wouldn't be for some years yet."

Qui-Gon paused, the frown fading away. His eyes, when he looked up, were clouded. "Obi-Wan," he whispered gently, "in 'some years' I very much doubt my opinion will matter at all."

The younger man flinched violently, lips pressed thin. " _Don't_."

Reaching out, Qui-Gon caught his hand, twining their fingers together. Obi-Wan returned the grip almost painfully tight, white knuckled. "Hush," he whispered soothingly. [I know you do not like to hear it, love. But truth is truth.]

"Don't," Obi-Wan repeated, but the word held less force. His expression was weary, an unguarded fatigue that cut clear to his bones, sunk deep into the lines of face and eyes. "Let me have my dreams."

Qui-Gon pressed his hand firmly. [We will dream together,] he promised, the words echoing between them with love and comfort. [Forever.]

It took Obi-Wan a noticeable moment to center himself again, to take a breath and release it slowly. "Yes," he whispered, nodding. Giving himself a small shake, he sat up straighter, though he did not release their hands. "Even if it were now... tell me your opinion."

Qui-Gon nodded, allowing the change of mood. "Tell me what makes this remarkable enough that you would consider it," he asked in lieu of answer.

A weary but genuine smile touched Obi-Wan's lips. "Surely you can guess," he challenged with forced lightness. When Qui-Gon only raised one silver brow in answer the younger man tilted his head slightly. "Skywalker."

The older man sat up abruptly, shoulders straightening. [The twins?]

Obi-Wan nodded. Both Jedi Masters had been there at the birth of Anakin's children - Obi-Wan remembered, vividly, the picture of Qui-Gon, one tiny babe cradled in the crook of each arm, hair cascading down across his shoulder as he bent over them, murmuring wordless warmth. Now, the Jedi Master's expression clouded, lips pressing thin and brows drawing down. "They would have you take them as Padawan? How? Both together..."

The younger man shook his head, reaching up with his free hand to tug the tie from his graying hair and shake it free, massaging the base of his neck. "No. Not together."

"But they are to come to the Temple, then?" Qui-Gon pressed.

Obi-Wan hesitated again, tongue pressed against his teeth. "Yes," he said at last, but though it was no lie - they had never spoken falsehoods to each other - it was also not nearly all of the answer. Qui-Gon waited, his frown increasing.

It was a few moments before Obi-Wan, with a small sigh, continued speaking. "Amidala will allow one of them to come to the Temple. The other will stay with her on Naboo."

His lover let his breath out slowly, expression clearing slightly. "Anakin...?"

"Has already argued it with her," Obi-Wan admitted, brow furrowed. Qui-Gon silently squeezed his hand, a reassuring pressure. "She won't be swayed." He glanced sidelong at the other man. "That's what he wanted to speak of this morning."

The older man's lips twitched slightly. "Which you thought I ought not hear..." Seeing Obi-Wan's expression harden, he shook his head. "No. We'll speak of that later. Tell me the rest now."

Obi-Wan sighed. "The Council isn't pleased..."

"I can't imagine they would be," Qui-Gon interjected grimly, but fell silent at Obi-Wan's exasperated glance.

"And well they shouldn't! Qui-Gon, the twins would be the strongest Knights the Temple has seen since the Wars..."

"The twins," Qui-Gon said firmly, voice rasping, "are the children of the Queen of Naboo. Amidala has the right to refuse one or both of her heir-elects to the Temple."

Pulling his hand away, Obi-Wan sank back in his chair, fingers drumming on the tabletop. "I know. But that strong in the Force... they should be trained. Both of them."

Refilling his cup, Qui-Gon shook his head. [Anakin can see them trained, enough to make them safe. He'll enjoy the excuse to visit Naboo more often.]

A small, mirthless smile tugged at Obi-Wan's lips. "That's what he told the Council."

[There, then. You see?] Qui-Gon downed half the cup of tea, a frown still darkening his brow. "The twins... how bonded are they?"

Obi-Wan snorted slightly. "Anakin didn't want to say. Born in the same hour, always together? That strong in the Force? I think it's a miracle they've bothered to learn to speak at all."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, cup held to his lips as he inhaled the fragrant steam. [The Council is being foolish,] he said bluntly. [They're desperate - we all are - but separating the twins is the wisest choice. Amidala knows what she's doing. That bonded... we could try to separate them in the creche but it would never be enough. They'd grow dependent on each other. Better to train one strong then both weak.]

The other man was silent for a time, fingers drumming relentlessly as he thought, but eventually he nodded slowly. "You're right, of course. The Council knows it as well, or they would have insisted more strongly." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Amidala has promised to send one twin to the Temple by next year. The Council wants my promise to be closely involved with the training."

The Jedi Master nodded, sipping his tea. [What will you tell them?]

Obi-Wan groaned softly, scrubbing his hands over his face. "What else can I tell them? Yes, of course. These are Anakin's children we're talking about, not some strangers. They're practically my grandchildren."

"Good," Qui-Gon breathed, approving. "The twins. Has Amidala decided which to make her heir?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan shifted tiredly, reaching forward to take his lover's hand again, fingers curling tightly together. "Yes, Luke will be heir-elect to the Naboo throne. I'll train Leia."

 

[...to next stage]


End file.
